


the end of midterms

by jehans



Series: it's for you [31]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:14:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehans/pseuds/jehans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s rare for Enjolras to get a knock on his door at 11pm on a Wednesday, but not completely unheard of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the end of midterms

**Author's Note:**

> About a year into both relationships.

It’s rare for Enjolras to get a knock on his door at 11pm on a Wednesday, but not completely unheard of. Usually if there are emergencies, people go to Combeferre, so Enjolras is reluctant to have to drag himself out of his study burrow in the middle of the common room, but it is 11pm and therefore probably at least somewhat important (or this will end in blood), so Enjolras hauls himself up off the floor and goes to answer the door.

Jehan is on the other side, already dressed in his pajamas and looking exhausted and. . .well, rather tiny and adorable. Enjolras steps back automatically to let him in (he practically lives here anyway), but opens his mouth to explain that Courfeyrac isn’t here. Jehan interrupts him, though.

“Is Courf still out?” he sounds distressed.

“Yeah, he’s out with R,” Enjolras confirms. “And Bahorel and Bossuet and Marius? I think?”

Jehan nods. “They’re celebrating the end of their midterms. I thought you were out with them?” he asks Enjolras as he wanders into the room and look around at the nest of books and papers and granola bar wrappers that surround Enjolras’ laptop. “Obviously not.”

“No, my last midterm is tomorrow morning,” Enjolras sighs. “I thought _you_ were with them?”

“Nope, night class,” Jehan answers. “But that’s my midterms done now, and I’m _so tired_ and I was really hoping I could just come over and curl up and sleep. But he’s not home yet?”

Enjolras shakes his head. “You can feel free to go in and wait for him,” he offers. “I’m sure he won’t mind if you’re already asleep.”

“But I can’t sleep without him,” Jehan whines. “I’m used to him, I can’t sleep when I’m all alone anymore, the bed always feels too big.”

Enjolras frowns, like he’s trying to work through a problem. Then, “You could sit with me?” he offers suddenly. “I was going to move to the couch anyway. I don’t mind if you fall asleep while I study.”

A slow, delighted smile stretches across Jehan’s face, and he takes Enjolras’ hand to be led over to the couch. Once Enjolras has gathered his nest around himself again, Jehan tucks up against him. And Jehan is warm and snugly and has this way of clinging to people that’s just _loving_ , and Enjolras lifts his arm so Jehan can curl up against his side and slip his arms around Enjolras’ middle, his face pressed into the curve where Enjolras’ neck meets his shoulder.

Jehan falls asleep within five minutes. His breathing slows down and his grip on Enjolras relaxes a little and he seems so content and comfortable that Enjolras catches himself smiling softly and skimming his fingertips absently over Jehan’s back.

He pretends not to notice when he puts his own pen down and pushes his laptop a little further away from himself. He acts like it’s not a problem to tuck his legs up around Jehan and lean back into the couch.

And he just gives into it when his head settles on top of Jehan’s and his eyes drift shut.

Two hours later, Courfeyrac and Grantaire come, stumbling slightly, down the hallway to Courfeyrac’s and Enjolras’ apartment. Grantaire is rambling about something philosophy-related, as is his drunken wont, but Courfeyrac shushes him wildly the minute he opens the door and peers inside.

“What the fuck, dude?” Grantaire hisses, trying to get in to bed and Enjolras, but Courfeyrac stops him, beaming, and opens the door a little wider so they can both look inside.

“Look!” he stage whispers gleefully. “Our boyfriends are cuddling.”

Enjolras has wrapped himself even more around Jehan in sleep, both arms and one leg completely around his small friend, face turned into long, curly hair.

Courfeyrac can’t stop grinning at the two blonds all tangled up in each other and when he glances over at Grantaire, the cynic is smiling a little bit, too. Courfeyrac nudges him.

“You love Jehan almost as much as I do, admit it,” he whispers.

Grantaire makes a face but doesn’t deny it. “Should we wake them?” he asks instead.

“Well, we probably shouldn’t just lurk in the doorway,” Courfeyrac answers.

So they shuffle inside, and Courf closes the door behind them.

“I’m taking mine to bed,” he breathes at Grantaire, who nods and goes right up to Enjolras, slipping a hand in his hair and pressing lips to his temple to wake him softly.

As Enjolras’ arms retract from around Jehan while he wakes up, Courfeyrac replaces him, lifting Jehan up like a child. Jehan barely even wakes up, he just mumbles a little, clings to Courfeyrac’s waist with his legs and to Courfeyrac’s neck with his arms, and presses a kiss to his neck as he’s carried to bed.

Enjolras, however, struggles into wakefulness.

“I fell asleep,” he says unnecessarily as Grantaire tries to pull him to his feet to take him off to bed.

“Yes, and you looked adorable,” Grantaire replies, taking advantage of Enjolras’ sleepy confusion to sweetly kiss his face another few times (he rarely sees Enjolras during midterms outside of the few hours Enjolras will crawl into bed with him to sleep, so being able to kiss him without protest of “busy” is a lovely treat).

“I have to study,” Enjolras mumbles, halfheartedly pushing Grantaire aside with one hand while almost subconsciously fisting the other in his shirt and keeping him there.

“You’ve studied,” Grantaire tells him.

“I have a midterm,” Enjolras protests.

“You know everything you need to. Now you need sleep.”

“Grantaire —”

“Kiss me,” Grantaire says firmly.

Enjolras’ bleary eyes come up to focus on Grantaire, who’s still leaning over him, hands on his elbows, trying to help him to his feet. “What?” he asks confusedly.

Grantaire smiles. “Kiss me,” he repeats, softer.

“Why?” Enjolras is really having trouble grasping any concept right now, which means he must be _really_ fucking sleep deprived.

“Because you haven’t properly kissed me in nearly a week,” Grantaire breathes, leaning forward to nuzzle Enjolras’ cheekbone (and smugly delighting in the way Enjolras’ eyes close, his breath lets out in a whoosh, and his face turns to nestle against Grantaire’s). “Because you’ve been stuck in study mode for so long I’ve barely seen you. Because I miss you. Because you miss me too.” He grins and leans in almost all the way. “Because I asked you to.”

Enjolras blinks. “Oh,” he whispers simply. Then he closes the gap between them.


End file.
